


Without You

by Bow_Woww



Series: 31 Day Angst Challenge [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 31 day angst challenge, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, I promise, M/M, Post-Canon, Tags to be added, This One's Gonna Hurt, apparent major character death, some pretty heavy angst, very sad victor, will be continued eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow_Woww/pseuds/Bow_Woww
Summary: With his and Yuuri's wedding barely a week away, Victor has never been happier. Just when it seems like everything is perfect, tragedy strikes and Victor's world is turned upside down. Without Yuuri, Victor struggles to put himself back together and find meaning in his life. He returns to skating for a final season to honor his fiance, intent on shutting out the rest of the world. But when a video of a mysterious person skating very familiar routines surfaces, Victor has to make a decision about whether to move on, or chase a memory.31 Day Angst Challenge Day 1: Grief
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: 31 Day Angst Challenge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726732
Comments: 21
Kudos: 61





	1. The Grass Grows

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I got hooked on trying out the 31 day angst challenge and this is day 1's prompt: grief. I plan for this to be a longer fic and I will continue it at some point. Please mind the tags, and feel free to let me know if I should tag something else! I will be writing a mix of oneshots and multichapter fics for this challenge, but I definitely won't be able to stick to a back-to-back schedule. It'll be 31 days eventually! 
> 
> Title and chapter titles are based on "Without You" from Rent :)

Victor groaned in protest as his alarm blared. He buried his face in the nape of Yuuri’s neck, wrapping his arms around his fiance’s warm body. Yuuri’s grumpy groan matched Victor’s own as he pawed around the nightstand for his phone. Murmuring a few curse words, Yuuri silenced the screeching alarm. He stretched, leaning back against Victor’s front as his muscles popped. Victor took the opportunity to squeeze Yuuri tighter so he couldn’t get up.

“Umf, Vitya,” Yuuri rasped in his gravely morning voice. “I don’t wanna.” 

Victor very much agreed with his fiance’s sentiment. “Stay in bed,” he insisted, running his hands along Yuuri’s bare abdomen. 

Yuuri’s hands caught his own. “Mmm didn’t we agree to get it out of our systems last night so we wouldn’t stay in bed too long?” He chuckled, but didn’t protest when Victor’s hands wandered a little further south. 

“Maybe I want to stay in bed too long,” Victor replied, not entirely kidding. He didn’t want Yuuri to go, even if they would only be apart for barely a week. “I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Humming in agreement, Yuuri turned in his fiance’s arms. He nuzzled into the crook of Victor’s neck, sighing contentedly. “I don’t want to be apart from you either. But,” he continued, peering up at Victor, “Yurio is relying on you, that’s part of being an assistant coach. It’s only for a little while.” 

“I know,” Victor relented. “But I still don’t like it. I wish he could deal without me for a while.”

“Me too,” Yuuri agreed. “But you promised you’d be here for him.” 

Victor groaned. “I need to stop making that kid promises. Are you sure  _ you  _ can’t stay?” 

“You know my family needs help getting things ready at the onsen for the wedding,” Yuuri chastised. “It’s not my fault you let a teenager rope you into a week of intensive training right before your own wedding.” 

“He’s never let me forget that I chased you to Japan and forgot to make that program for him,” Victor lamented. “He’ll never let me forget a promise again.” 

Yuuri chuckled. “No, he won’t.” He kissed the juncture of Victor’s neck and shoulder. “The week will pass quickly, Yurio will keep you busy.” 

“I hope so…” Victor murmured, closing his eyes to savor his last moments in the warmth of his fiance’s embrace.

They remained pressed together, gently running their hands over each other’s bodies, but not taking it any further. Yuuri tensed as the alarm went off again, reluctantly turning away from Victor to turn it off. Victor sat up, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head. He heard Makka shuffling around on the floor, roused by the activity of her owners. She boofed quietly, indicating that she was ready for breakfast. Yuuri had finally sat up, squinting groggily at a ribbon of light that was streaming in through their curtains. His hair was sticking in every direction and Victor couldn’t help leaning over to smooth some of the strands down. Yuuri swatted his hands away, glaring playfully at his fiance. 

“I’ll miss waking up to your beadhead,” Victor chuckled. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Well, at least I’ll get a break from your snoring,” he countered. 

“Yuuri! I’m so hurt!” Victor gasped in mock betrayal, but Yuuri wasn’t buying the dramatics. They’d been together too long for him to take Victor seriously. 

Yuuri just shook his head fondly, leaning over to kiss Victor’s cheek. He finally got out of bed, and Victor wolf whistled as he got a glorious view of Yuuri’s bare backside. Yuuri shot him a look over his shoulder, then disappeared into the bathroom. While Yuuri was in the bathroom, Victor got dressed and took Makka out, then fed her breakfast. Yuuri was out of the bathroom by the time he was done, so Victor took his turn relieving himself and getting ready for the day. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he was greeted by the smell of freshly cooked breakfast. While Yuuri was cooking eggs, Victor pulled some fruit out of the fridge and chopped it up for each of them. They ate together, both of them trying not to look too forlorn about their impending separation. It seemed silly to be so upset about such a brief time apart, but Victor hated it. He hated being apart from Yuuri for any length of time, and he knew Yuuri felt the same. 

Once breakfast was done, they cleaned up their dishes, and Yuuri made sure he was packed while Victor got his gear together for the day. When they were both satisfied that they were all packed, Yuuri ordered the taxi on his phone. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” 

Yuuri made a face. “Vitya I love you, but your driving terrifies me. I’d like to get to the airport in one piece.” 

Victor pouted, but he couldn’t keep up the facade when Yuuri was leaning in for a kiss. He returned it enthusiastically, deepening the kiss and drawing a soft moan from his partner. Yuuri tangled his fingers in Victor’s hair, and Victor found himself sneaking his fingers under Yuuri’s shirt. With a playful nip to Victor’s lip, Yuuri pulled away, his cheeks red.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” Yuuri chastised playfully. His face reddened even more when he realized the wording he’d used. “Don’t you dare--”

Victor ignored his protest. “Oh, I can certainly make it  _ harder _ ,” he purred, leaning back into Yuuri’s space. 

Yuuri tried to look offended, but couldn’t stop giggling. “Ugh, you’re such a dork!” 

“But I’m your dork,” Victor replied with a grin.

Yuuri smiled, warm and inviting. “Yeah, you are.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Victor’s lips, and started to go for another, when his phone dinged. A quick glance at the screen indicated the taxi was about to arrive. 

Suddenly, Victor felt like there was lead in his gut. All the playful flirting and teasing had been a good distraction, but the reality that he would have to be apart from his fiance for a  _ whole week _ reared its ugly head. It didn’t matter that they would talk on the phone or Skype every day, it wouldn’t be the same. Victor hated acting so clingy, but with Yuuri gone, the bed was too big, the apartment was too quiet, and his heart was too heavy.

Yuuri seemed to be having similar thoughts, based on the wateriness of his smile. He leaned in, resting his forehead against Victor’s. “Just think,” he said softly, “next time we see each other, will be for our wedding.” 

Victor couldn’t help but grin at that. “I can’t wait to be your husband.”

“I can’t wait to be  _ your _ husband,” Yuuri replied. 

They could have stayed like that for hours, except Yuuri’s phone dinged again, indicating the taxi had arrived. In an unspoken agreement, they shared a final kiss, before Victor walked Yuuri down to the lobby. Yuuri gave Makka a pat on the head on the way out, ruffling her fur as they parted. Down in the lobby, the driver was just parking. The driver met them at the door, taking Yuuri’s bags and giving them a final moment to say goodbye.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around his fiance. “I love you. I’ll see you in a week.” 

Victor returned the embrace. “I love you too. Say hi to your family for me.” 

“You know,” Yuuri replied as he pulled back, “in a little over a week, they’ll be your family too.” 

Victor grinned. “And I can’t wait.” He kissed Yuuri one more time, before the driver cleared his throat. Yuuri got into the taxi, waving at Victor until he was out of sight. As the taxi turned the corner, Victor couldn’t help but feel like he was watching his heart go with them. He shook his head. It was only a week. He could last a week. With a sigh, Victor returned to the apartment to grab his gear bag. He said goodbye to Makka, then headed out the door to the rink. 

He had retired after the last season, skating wasn’t supposed to be getting in the way of his life anymore! But Yuuri was right; as Yuri’s assistant coach, he couldn’t just up and leave. Especially since Yakov was not-so-subtly trying to transition Victor into a full time role. At least the old coach was waiting until Yuuri retired, since he knew Victor would never take on another full time student while he had his fiance to coach. 

Walking to the rink without Yuuri was lonely. It had been years since he’d made this trek alone, other than the occasional sick day (which Victor usually took off anyway to take care of Yuuri) or scheduling conflict where they couldn’t practice together. He was used to having Yuuri’s hand in his while they walked, pointing out cute dogs or gossiping about something on social media. Apparently, his sadness was reflected on his face, because as soon as Victor entered the rink and made his way to the locker room, Yuri took one look at him and rolled his eyes. 

“Ugh, get it together. Katsudon has been gone for what, an hour? And you’re already so mopey?” Yuri grumbled. 

“43 minutes and,” Victor looked at his watch, “32 seconds,” Victor corrected. He sighed forlornly. “Oh Yura, you just don’t know what it’s like to be in love!” 

“Thank fuck for that,” Yuri countered. 

Victor’s phone buzzed as he was putting his skates on. His face lit up as he read who it was from. 

**Yuuri <3 <3 <3: ** I figured you must be at the rink by now, so I just wanted to wish you luck with the tiger today.

Victor chuckled, typing out a response.

**Victor:** Thanks, love. Have a safe flight! Text me before you board and when you land?

**Yuuri <3 <3 <3** : Of course <3 love you, have a good day

**Victor** : Love you too <3

Yuri made a gagging noise, prompting Victor to look up from his phone, feeling the wide smile on his face. “Gross,” the teen declared, stomping out of the locker room. 

Victor didn’t take it personally, and felt in much better spirits as he got ready to get on the ice. He followed Yuri out the door a few minutes later. Even after retirement, the smell of the ice always filled Victor with a sense of calm. He nodded to Yakov, then set his phone down on the boards and removed his skate guards. Victor warmed up, avoiding bumping into Yuri. Yakov might be ok with a less hands-on approach, but Victor’s best coaching was done when he could show what he wanted. He’d made up his mind not to do anymore quads, though. His knees would thank him for that. 

As Victor warmed up, he couldn’t help but stop at the barrier to check his phone. Nothing from Yuuri, not that he was expecting anything until he boarded. Yakov caught on after Victor’s third lap, shaking his head disapprovingly. 

“Vitya, you’re a coach now, so act like one!” Yakov scolded. 

Victor rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been a coach for the past few seasons, he’d just also been a competitor. Still, he respected his old coach’s wishes and left his phone face down on the barrier. Once he and Yuri were warmed up, Yakov let Victor run the practice, chiming in when he had something to add. 

Yuri looked strong this season. His growth spurt had finally stopped, leaving him tall and lean, but with strong muscles. Yuri would be hard to beat this season, but Victor knew his Yuuri could do it. After all, Yuuri would be out for blood this season. Victor had snatched away his gold medal at the GPF, and Yuri had overtaken him at Worlds. It had been tempting to stay in competition for one more year, just to be a part of this amazing field of competitors for just one more season, but Victor knew he was already on borrowed time. Most people in this sport didn’t have careers as long as him. 

“Take a break!” Yakov barked after Victor finished drilling Yuri on his quad flip. 

The teen was breathing heavily, and Victor briefly felt guilty for overdoing it. He was used to Yuuri’s inhuman stamina. Speaking of Yuuri, Victor started to skate over to his phone so he could send his love a quick text during the break. However, he got intercepted by Mila and a few younger rinkmates, who were eager to hear about the wedding. They were all invited, of course, but Victor was still happy to take any opportunity to talk about Yuuri and their upcoming nuptials. By the time Yakov was screaming that break time was over, Victor hadn’t gotten a chance to text Yuuri. Oh well, he’d do it at the next break. Yuuri would be boarding soon, anyway, and he’d probably appreciate having a text from Victor when he landed. Victor smiled at the thought of his fiance’s eyes lighting up when he saw the text. 

Yuri’s practice continued to go well, with Yakov and Victor only  _ occasionally  _ getting on each other’s nerves. Victor had known the man long enough to know he was all bark and no bite. Except, the coach was giving Victor increasingly irritated looks from the otherside of the barrier and Victor had no idea why. Sure, he and Yakov disagreed on some of their coaching techniques, but it wasn’t like this was their first time working together. Victor had slowly been taking on more and more responsibility with Yuri and some of the other skaters. 

Finally, Yakov’s patience seemed to break. His face turned red and he snapped at Victor, “Turn off your damn phone! It’s been ringing non-stop for the past 10 minutes!” 

Victor frowned. That was a little odd. Yuuri knew he was at the rink, and would’ve sent a text unless it was an emergency. He skated over to the barrier, picking up his phone and almost dropping it when he saw how many notifications he had. There were missed calls from all members of the Katsuki family, Chris, Phichit, Minako, as well as others. He had a plethora of unread texts and some voicemails as well. His phone rang again as he was deciding what to look at first. It was Mari, and he answered it right away.

“Mari? Is everything alright?” 

There was a shuddering breath on the other line. “Vicchan…” Mari whispered, sounding miserable. 

Victor felt an unpleasant twisting in his gut. “Mari?” 

A few pained sobs sounded through the line. “It’s Yuuri…” 

Two words, and Victor knew. He didn’t know how, or when, but he knew. Mari wasn’t a crier. Mari wasn’t emotional. To hear her so broken up, it could only mean one thing. Victor’s hand went to his mouth, holding back a pained sob of his own. He couldn’t respond. He couldn’t form words. The fact that he was still upright at all was an achievement in itself. 

“There was an engine failure on the plane.” She sniffled, not waiting for Victor to respond. “There were no survivors.” Her voice cracked on the last few words. 

After that, Victor wasn’t entirely sure what happened. The phone slipped from his hand, thumping on the ice, and Victor followed soon after as his knees gave out. Vaguely, he was aware that he was making a scene. There were pained noises coming out of him that he didn’t even know where possible, and he couldn’t see straight past the tears in his eyes. 

Not his Yuuri, anything but that. He couldn’t lose him. They were only supposed to be apart for a week, and then they were supposed to have the happiest day of their lives. He’d just seen Yuuri this morning, smiling and kissing him goodbye. Maybe...maybe Yuuri was ok. Maybe his family just hadn’t gotten news yet. Victor felt around for his phone, frantically opening up his messages. He could hear Mari calling his name through the speaker, but he couldn’t make himself respond. He didn’t open messages from anyone else, but he could see snippets of condolences and sympathy. Why were they sending him condolences? It was a mistake. Yuuri was fine, he had to be.

Victor opened up Yuuri’s last message, holding his breath.

**Yuuri <3 <3 <3: ** Boarding! Talk to you soon <3

That was it. No message telling Victor he was ok. No other texts from Yuuri. 

“Vitya? What’s wrong?” Yakov’s gruff voice called out. He was rushing over to where Victor had dropped, but to Victor it almost felt like he was moving in slow motion.

Victor hung up on Mari, who was still trying to get his attention. He dialed the number he knew by heart, holding the phone up to his ear and hoping. His whole body shook with fear and anticipation, and it only worsened with each ring. Then, there was a click, and Victor held his breath. Yuuri’s voicemail recording played back at him. Victor hung up and tried again, then again, and again, until he felt someone shaking him.

“...Victor! What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Still clutching his phone like a lifeline, Victor looked up with tear filled eyes at his young student, not able to produce anything but a pained whimper. His phone was buzzing again in his hand, but he couldn’t make himself answer. Yakov gently extracted the phone from his grip, and answered in English.

“This is Victor’s coach. He’s very upset--” Yakov’s face paled as the person on the other end of the line spoke. He glanced over at Victor, more pity written on his face than Victor thought possible. “I understand. I’m so very sorry for your loss, thank you for calling. I will relay your message.” He paused again, listening to the voice on the other line. “I will. Thank you. Goodbye.” Yakov hung up and set the phone down on the barrier. He made his way to the door and walked out on the ice, looping an arm under Victor to help him stand. He motioned to Yuri to help, and the teen got the message right away.

Yakov and Yuri practically carried Victor off the ice, managing to get him to a bench where he could sit down. His pants were soaked through from sitting on the ice, but he knew that wasn’t why he was shivering. 

“Yura. Bring my car around front.” He dug around in his pocket and handed the teen his keys.

Yuri bristled. “What? I’m not going anywhere!” 

Yakov yelled a lot. It was his normal speaking voice. So when Yakov turned to his young pupil with sadness painted on his features and said, “Please”, in a small voice, Yuri looked shocked. But he didn’t argue. He nodded solemnly and took the keys, barely remembering to snap his skate guards back on.

Once Yuri was gone, Yakov wrapped his former skater in a tight hug. “Vitya, I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t a particularly affectionate man, but before the Katsukis, he was the only family Victor had. He returned the embrace, letting himself sob into Yakov’s shoulder. 

“I...I can’t…” Victor tried to speak between hiccupping sobs, but it was too difficult to figure out what to say. He still didn’t want to believe it. 

Yakov hugged him tighter. “I know. I’m going to get you home, ok?” 

Victor shook his head, not caring that he was smearing snot and tears all over his old coach. “N-no. Without Yuuri--” He couldn’t finish the sentence.  _ Without Yuuri there is no home _ . Before Yuuri had danced his way into Victor’s life, his apartment had been nothing but a place he shared with his dog. Yuuri made it a home. 

Yakov pat his back, murmuring soothing words. “You should be with Makkachin. And I’ll stay with you tonight.” He helped Victor get his skates off, just like when he was a child that couldn’t understand how to do the laces. Victor let himself be moved around like a doll, keeping his face buried in the shirt of the closet person he had to a father figure. 

Yuri returned a few minutes later, wearing street shoes and looking uncharacteristically concerned. “Your car is out front,” he confirmed. 

Yakov nodded in approval. “Good. Go grab Victor’s shoes.” 

Yuri didn’t argue, running off to the locker room and returning with Victor’s shoes. Yakov put them on, and Victor couldn’t manage enough dignity to tie them himself. Then, Yakov was pulling Victor up, Yuri on his otherside, trying to keep him from falling over. Victor managed to stay upright, keeping his head down as Yakov walked him out to the car. His nose was stuffed up and he could feel the tears still falling from his eyes, but nothing else around him felt real. His chest hurt, but the rest of him felt numb.

Briefly, Victor was startled when Yakov snarled at a crowd of onlookers. “What are you all staring at?! Get back to work!” 

Victor didn’t look up to see who was watching. They may not know what happened, but they would soon. Everyone loved Yuuri, and he was one of the top skaters in the world. This wouldn’t stay quiet for long. 

Yakov and Yuri helped Victor into the passenger seat of Yakov’s car. The coach handed him his phone back, which Victor gripped like a lifeline. He’d cracked his screen a little when he dropped it, but the case had done its job keeping the rest of the phone safe. He stared at his background, which was of course Yuuri, feeling another wave of tears overwhelming him. He’d never get to see that smile again. He’d never get to hear that laughter, or feel those hands on him. Victor stared at the picture on the screen, at a person who was full of life. It was only a memory now.

It was probably torture, but Victor needed to see more. He opened up his phone and tried to open his photo album, but his fingers were so shaky, he somehow managed to open his voicemail notifications. He knew his friends had called him, but he’d missed the oldest voicemail when he’d first picked up his phone. A spark of hope filled Victor as he held the phone up to his ear and pressed play. There was a moment of silence, then the voice he most wanted to hear. 

“Hi, Vitya. Ugh, this is pathetic. It hasn’t even been a few hours and I already miss you so much. I know you’re at practice, so I don’t expect you to hear this until I’m already in the air, but I just wanted to call and tell you that I love you.” There was a light hearted chuckle. “God, I feel like I’m marching off to war or something. I just hate being apart from you. But at least the next time we see each other, we’ll be so much closer to being Mr. and Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov.” There was a dreamy sigh. “I can’t wait. I really, really can’t wait to marry you, Vitya.” There was a brief pause as an announcement played in the background. “Oh, that’s my group. Well, I’m boarding so I guess I’ll talk to you when I land. I hope you have a good practice, and that you don’t make Yakov any balder. I love you.” 

Even though he knew Yuuri wouldn’t hear it, Victor choked out, “I love you too.” He buried his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. 


	2. The Seeds Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor deals with the shock of losing Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look I continued this! Gonna try and keep chapters short cuz this is gonna be rough. It's gonna hurt...sorry not sorry

Victor had the most horrible dream. He dreamt of fire, and screams, and reaching out for Yuuri but not being able to touch him. It was the kind of nightmare that made him startle awake. Peeking out through half opened eyes, Victor could see that light was seeping in through his window, since apparently he’d forgotten to close his blinds. It must be late in the morning; he’d slept in, which was unusual for him. Victor groaned in pain. Why did his head hurt so much? He didn’t remember drinking, but it sure felt like he had, and when he held his hand up to his face, his fingers came away wet. 

He hadn’t slept well, that much was apparent, but he was in such a haze he couldn’t comprehend what had kept him up. Whatever it was, a kiss from his fiance could make it better. Victor rolled over, reaching toward the other side of the bed. “Yuuri--” 

The bed was empty. Victor’s eyes shot open and he sat up. Yuuri’s side of the bed was still made, his pillow cold. Panic started to set in, but Victor remembered that Yuuri had left for Hasetsu. Everything else had been a dream, right? 

Victor pawed around for his phone, which he’d apparently forgotten to plug in so it was dead. He swore, digging his charger out of his nightstand drawer. He plugged his phone in, and the few minutes he waited for it to charge enough to turn on were agony. It would probably make sense for him to get up while he waited, but he felt rooted to the spot. He couldn’t do anything until he knew that Yuuri was ok, that it was just a dream. He’d call Yuuri, who would answer regardless of the time difference, and his fiance’s voice would calm him enough to get on with his day.

Finally, his phone lit up. Victor squeezed it impatiently as it came back to life, finally entering his password in. He was immediately bombarded by text messages and voicemails. His throat felt dry.

_ No… _

Victor’s eyes were tearing up too much to read any of the words on his screen, but he managed to enter Yuuri’s phone number. With every ring, Victor felt his heart sink. When Yuuri’s voicemail answered, his greeting message first in Japanese then in English, Victor dropped his phone. His hand was shaking too much to hold onto it. 

A rush of hazy memories came back to him; drinking with Yakov, stumbling to bed, crying into Makkachin’s fur. It was real. Yuuri was gone. Victor let out a pained sob, which turned into a scream. He doubled over and grasped at the bed sheets, gripping them in a white knuckled grip. It wasn’t fair! Why did it have to be Yuuri, his Yuuri? Yuuri, who had so many people who loved him. Yuuri, who had so much life and love left. Yuuri, who was supposed to be his husband in less than a week. 

The door to Victor’s bedroom swung open. Yakov was standing in the doorway, followed closely by Makkachin. The poodle looked frantic, whining at the sound of her owner’s anguish. She immediately pushed past Yakov and jumped up on the bed, covering Victor’s face in sloppy licks. Victor latched onto her, sobbing into her fur as he had the previous night. 

There was a sad sigh from the doorway. “Vitya, what do you need?” 

“Yuuri…” 

Another sigh. “If I could bring him back to you, I would. How about breakfast to start? You haven’t eaten since you got home.”

Victor shook his head. He was too nauseous to eat, and he had a feeling it had nothing to do with the drinking. 

“A shower, then?”

Victor shook his head again, holding Makka tighter. As he moved, he managed to roll over onto Yuuri’s side of the bed. So close to Yuuri’s pillow, Victor could smell the faintest trace of his shampoo, and something that was uniquely Yuuri. It brought more tears to Victor’s eyes. He let go of Makka, instead clutching the pillow and breathing in as much of Yuuri’s scent as he could. It was a challenge with how quickly his nose was stuffing up, but he didn’t care. 

“Oh, Vitya,” Yakov sighed, rubbing his temples. “I fed Makkachin and took her out. I will be in the living room if you need me.” He waited for a response, but Victor didn’t react. 

Yakov retreated to the living room, letting Victor stew in his misery. Eventually, he did seem to cry himself out. His head was pounding now, and he knew he was leaving snot all over Yuuri’s pillow. Makka, the loyal girl that she was, never left Victor’s side. She curled up against him, resting her chin on his leg. 

Despite Victor’s desire to never leave his bed again, he did have to get up to avoid peeing on himself. Begrudgingly, Victor pulled himself out of bed. He was lightheaded and stumbled on his way to the bathroom, but managed to make it to relieve himself. As he washed his hands, he glanced over at the toothbrush holder that now held one less toothbrush. It was such a simple thing, but it brought him to tears once more. 

Over his gasping sobs, Victor barely heard the pounding on the door. However, he couldn’t miss the sound of his pupil’s piercing voice. “Where is he?! Where is Victor?!” 

Yakov said something that was probably supposed to be calming, but Yuri ignored him and kept yelling. “Victor! Where the fuck are you?” 

If only to make the yelling stop, because it was aggravating his headache, Victor managed to drag himself out into the living room. Makka’s tail was wagging slowly, but she looked unsure. She was clearly happy to see Yuri, but didn’t like all the yelling. Yuri’s eyes were red as he locked onto Victor’s form. 

“It’s not true. Where’s Katsudon?” Yuri demanded. 

“It’s true,” Victor replied weakly. “He’s...gone.” His voice cracked as he said the word. 

Yuri snarled, “No! No, he can’t be!” Despite the anger of his tone, his voice shook. He was barely holding back tears. 

Victor looked away from Yuri, unable to find his voice to answer. The only thing that snapped Victor out of his daze was that Yuri started sobbing. Not just a few tears, but red-faced, snotty-nosed, waterworks. Even in Victor’s fragile state, it surprised him. Yuri may not be the arrogant teen he used to be, but he still wasn’t great at showing emotions other than irritation, anger, or defiance. The fact that he was openly weeping about losing Yuuri broke something else in Victor. Like a man possessed, he walked over to his kitchen counter, where a half-drank bottle of vodka sat from the previous night. He opened the bottle, downing the contents. 

“Vitya!” Yakov’s outraged cry cut through the room, but it didn’t stop Victor. 

He kept drinking, even as the alcohol burned his throat. Even as his head felt like it was going to split open. He would have finished the bottle, but a pair of gruff hands tried to wrestle it from him. Liquid spilled down Victor’s chin as he fought to keep his grip on the bottle. Finally, with a final pull, Yakov ripped it from his grasp and it smashed on the ground between them. Victor stared blankly at the broken glass in front of him, his vision swimming. 

Yakov’s calloused hand was suddenly gripping Victor by the chin, forcing him to look his old coach in the eyes. “You will not drink yourself into a stupor, do you understand? If I have to remove every bottle from this apartment, I will. If I have to take control of your funds, I will. You will not go down that path, do you understand?” 

For a moment, Victor had the urge to snarl at his coach and tell him where to shove it. He was grieving, and Yakov wanted to take away the one thing that could dull the pain. But some part of Victor’s logical brain knew he was right, or was at least too broken to argue, so he just nodded weakly. 

Yakov carefully led him away from the broken glass and to the couch. He sat Victor down, pulling a blanket over his shoulders like he hadn’t done since Victor had been a teenager nursing a broken heart. Yuri was seated across from him on the lounge chair, his knees pulled up to his chin, eyes staring at nothing. There were still tears dripping down his face. 

“Stay here,” Yakov commanded. He shooed Makka out of the kitchen as well, and she retreated to her owner. Seeming to sense that Victor was upset, she jumped on the couch and leaned into him. Victor absent-mindedly ran his fingers through her hair. 

The only sounds in the apartment were the occasional sniffles from Victor or Yuri, along with the sound of broken glass being swept up. At some point, Yakov made a phone call but Victor was too out of it to comprehend what he was saying. Then, 20 minutes later, there was a knock on his door. Yakov answered, and even through Victor’s stuffy nose, he could smell the takeout. 

Yakov guided Victor to the table, and Yuri followed. He gently pushed Victor down into one of the chairs and demanded, “Eat.” 

Victor looked down at the food in front of him. It made his stomach twist. Yuri was already taking small bites, but Victor turned away, starting to stand up from the table. 

“Sit down,” Yakov commanded.

“I’m not hungry,” Victor replied. His voice sounded hollow, even to him.

Yakov stood up from his spot, pushing Victor back down into the chair. “I don’t care. You will sit here and eat until I’ve decided you’ve had enough.” 

It wasn’t worth arguing, so Victor did as he was told. It tasted like ash on his tongue and made his stomach turn, but Victor eventually ate enough to satisfy his old coach. Yuri fared better, finishing the bulk of his meal. Yakov finally gave Victor permission to leave the table. Victor immediately went back into his room, crawling into bed. He curled up on Yuuri’s side of the bed, burying his face in his fiance’s pillow once more. 

\------------------------------

“You need to leave this bed.” 

Victor rolled over so he was facing away from Yakov. “I do leave this bed.”

“To piss,” Yakov grunted. “When was the last time you ate? Or showered?” 

Truthfully, Victor didn’t know. He didn’t know how many days had passed since his world came crashing down. The only food he’d eaten was essentially force fed by Yakov, but sometimes even the stubborn old coach couldn’t get Victor to eat anything. As for a shower, judging by how grimey he was and the stubble starting to grow in, Victor guessed he hadn’t had one of those in a while either. 

“Why don’t you take Makkachin out?” Yakov suggested. 

Makkachin, who was dutifully curled up next to Victor, wagged her tail at the word “out”. Victor did feel guilty about how little attention she’d been getting from him, but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything about it. 

“Maybe later,” Victor replied. 

Yakov sighed. “Vitya.”

“Yakov,” Victor snapped, burying his face in Yuuri’s pillow. It barely held any of his fiance’s scent anymore. While Victor wallowed, he heard his phone buzzing. It had been buzzing pretty much non-stop lately, but he couldn’t bring himself to check it. 

“Are you going to answer that?” Yakov questioned. 

“No.” 

Another sigh, followed by shuffling feet. The buzzing stopped. “This is Victor’s coach.” A pause, followed by a voice on the other end of the phone that Victor couldn’t make out. “Not good.” More pausing. “Ah, I don’t think he’s been checking messages. I’ll pass him the phone.” 

Victor peeked an eye open, glaring at Yakov. The phone was being held up to his face, but Victor ignored it. Yakov raised an eyebrow, trying to encourage Victor to take the phone. Victor closed his eyes again, but they snapped open when he heard a voice through the phone calling, “Vicchan?” 

Even in his darkest moments, he couldn’t ignore Katsuki Hiroko. Reluctantly, Victor took the phone from Yakov. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “Mama?” 

There was a sigh of relief. “Oh, Vicchan, we’ve been so worried about you.” 

Victor squeezed the phone. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. 

“Don’t be sorry, dear. We all just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Hiroko continued. She sounded drained. 

Even though Hiroko couldn’t see him, he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he repeated again.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Hiroko insisted.

Victor shook his head again. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” 

“No, no of course it’s not.” 

“He wouldn’t have been on that flight if it wasn’t for me!” 

Hiroko didn’t hesitate. “Vicchan, no. Don’t think like that. What happened was an accident, none of us could have predicted it.” 

Victor sobbed, “You must hate me.” The entire Katsuki family, all of Hasetsu must hate him. If he’d never shown up, Yuuri would still be alive. 

“Never,” Hiroko replied immediately. “We all love you, Vicchan. We want you here with us. With your family.” 

Victor knew he was making a scene in front of Yakov but he didn’t care. He couldn’t hold his tears back. “Are you sure?” His voice was small, and quiet. 

Hiroko sniffled on the other line. “Of course. Please come home.” She took a couple of steadying breaths. “We are having a memorial service. You should be here.” 

There was a stab of pain in Victor’s heart. Part of him didn’t want to go, because that would mean facing a reality where Yuuri wasn’t there. He wanted to stay in denial, to curl up in the remaining tendrils of Yuuri’s scent on his pillow and never leave. But Victor knew he’d never forgive himself if he wasn’t there. 

“When?” he asked. 

Hiroko sniffled again. “Since everyone was already supposed to be here this weekend…” 

Victor held a hand over his mouth to try and contain a sob. Everyone was supposed to be in town for the wedding. All of their friends and family were going to fly out to Hasetsu for what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. Instead, they’d be there for the worst. 

“I’m not sure what day today is,” Victor admitted. He’d completely lost track of time.

“Your flight is supposed to leave tomorrow,” Yakov supplied. 

Victor nodded. “Ok.” His gut twisted at the thought of getting on a plane, but it wasn’t like he had any other options for getting to Hasetsu. 

“You can stay here as long as you’d like,” Hiroko added. “There’s no time limit.”

“Ok,” Victor repeated. He didn’t think he had any energy for forming more words. 

“Please call if you need anything. We’ve all been worried sick about you,” Hiroko scolded. 

Victor couldn’t form a response. That was just like Hiroko to be worrying about  _ Victor’s _ well-being while she was going through the worst tragedy of her life. He didn’t deserve that kindness. 

“Vicchan?” 

Victor just shook his head, unable to speak anymore. Yakov gently extracted the phone from his hand, speaking into the receiver. “I will make sure Victor is packed and at the airport tomorrow.” A pause. “Yes, I will. Thank you.” Another pause. “You as well.” He hung up, looking over at Victor sadly. Then, his expression hardened.

“You are getting out of this bed.” It was a statement, not a request. 

Victor grunted in response, pulling his blanket around him. If Yakov wanted him up, he’d have to drag Victor out. 

The blanket was yanked off of him. “I said, you are getting out of this bed.” 

Victor curled further into himself, refusing to move or look at his coach.

Yakov muttered a few curse words, then disappeared. Victor heard him in the bathroom, followed by the sound of the shower being turned on. It didn’t take long for steam to start seeping out of the bathroom. Yakov was muttering to himself as he fiddled with the water and opened and closed cabinets. Then, he returned to Victor’s side. Without asking for permission, Yakov scooped an arm under Victor, pulling him upright into a sitting position. Victor didn’t resist, but he didn’t offer any assistance either. Yakov grabbed one of Victor’s arms, pulling it over his own shoulders so he could drag Victor up. The old coach grunted in pain as he hauled Victor to his feet. Once standing, Victor teetered a little. He’d barely been out of his bed in days and his legs were definitely feeling it. 

“At least help me out,” Yakov requested, starting to pull Victor toward the bathroom.

Victor obliged, forcing his feet to shuffle across the bedroom floor. Once they reached the bathroom, Yakov sat Victor down on the ledge of the tub. He gestured to the shower.

“You’re already here, get in. If I don’t hear from you in 10 minutes I am breaking down this door and dragging you out, naked or not. Understand?” Yakov threatened. 

Victor nodded numbly. Yakov seemed satisfied, giving a small nod before leaving Victor alone in the bathroom. Victor stared blankly ahead for a few moments, but eventually started stripping off his filthy clothes. He realized he’d never actually changed out of his dirty practice clothes after he’d heard the news about Yuuri, but he couldn’t find the strength to care. When he glanced in the mirror, he also couldn’t find the will to be bothered about how unkempt he looked. Normally Victor took pride in his appearance, always keeping a clean face and styled hair. Without his normal beauty routines, his hair was greasy, and a layer of stubble had grown in on his face. His eyes had dark circles underneath them and his skin looked almost sickly. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Victor stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot water pelted him. He cleaned himself on autopilot, scrubbing days of grime and sweat off of himself. To avoid Yakov’s wrath, Victor was about to step out, when he noticed Yuuri’s shampoo bottle. He grabbed it, his eyes filling with tears that were instantly washed away. He’d already washed his hair, but he squirted another dollop into his hands and lathered it into his hair. He wanted to hold onto any remnants of Yuuri, no matter how small. 

After his second shampooing, Victor turned the water off and stepped out. He hadn’t even noticed Yakov left a pile of clean clothes next to the sink until he almost knocked them over reaching for a towel. Once he was dried off, Victor started dressing. He was grateful that Yakov had left him with some of his softest, comfiest pants, but he froze when he picked up the sweater Yakov had provided. 

It was Yuuri’s. 

It was an ugly, hand-knitted monstrosity that Yuuri had gotten in Detroit. Victor always hated it but for some reason, Yuuri loved it. The sweater was an absolutely hideous shade of blue, not dissimilar from the famous horrible blue tie that Victor hated. Normally, when Victor found this sweater he’d hide it in the back of the drawer. Today, though, he held it tight, crying into the sleeve. He didn’t care how hideous it was, because it was Yuuri’s. 

Victor slipped the sweater on, not able to avoid wincing at how terrible the sweater looked on him. It didn’t matter. He’d wear it forever if it meant keeping a piece of Yuuri with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I PROMISE EVERYTHING WILL BE OK. I'd love to hear from you, your comments give me life!


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